Walker is still hate-glaring in the direction of the old man, watching him until he disappears in the distance. The look on his face is borderline scary.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, planting both hands on my hips.
Walker doesn’t answer me. He busies himself with unloading the corn he just grabbed from his truck, rearranging everything on the tables in front of us. It’s pointless, though. We definitely don’t have customers now. No one is interested in buying angry veggies.
“Are you really gonna turn into that guy?” I sneer. “Are you gonna go crazy every time another man talks to me?”
He squints at me over his back . “Jeez—Penn, I’m not like that and you know it. I’m not a petty man who gets jealous over the smallest things. You know the only reason I’d blow up like that is if you’re in real danger. Like at the bar that night. You know that.”
My tense shoulders loosen. I do know it. So something serious must be going on right now. I just have no clue what it is.
He turns back to the table and I’m left speaking to his big, tense shoulders. “What’s wrong?” I try again, softer this time. Gripping his arm in both hands, I pivot him to face me. “Walker. Talk to me. Please,” I beg. But I recognize those eyes. He’s shutting down on me. He’s shutting me out.
“Nothing,” he grumbles. “Stop pushing it, Penn.” The pain in his eyes makes me back down. “I have to go turn in my permit for next week.” He doesn’t look in my direction. He just stalks off, leaving me alone at his booth.
My chest squeezes.
The choreography is simple. One step forward. Two steps back. It's the dance Walker and I have always done. Last night I slept in his bed, with him inside me. A few minutes ago, his mouth was on mine for all of Crescent Harbor to see. Now here we are, practically strangers again.
And I’m supposed to bet my future on him? My children’s futures? Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.
46
Walker
Penny is sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, arms folded, hugging the little lunch box she brought my sandwich in earlier. She won’t talk to me, and I feel like a jerk now.
This evening started out perfect, with her surprising me at the farmer’s market. And now I’ve made a mess of the whole thing.
The sun just dipped behind the horizon and the sky is in that odd place between day and twilight. Penny’s head is turned toward the window, and nothing I say seems to draw her attention back to me.
The tension is so thick in the cab of the truck that I have to roll down my window. Shit—I’m on the verge of suffocating. Maybe me keeling over would grab her attention. I don’t know though; she’s pretty stubborn.
“Want to stop and grab a strawberry shake or something?” I ask hopefully. “Or there’s a booth with fried pickles down by the water. Maybe we could take a stroll.”
Her head gives a brief shake, eyes not wavering from the scenery passing by.
That’s when I know I messed up. If she’s passing up on pickles, I’m definitely on her bad side.
Dammit—I’m trying to get her to take a chance on me. And what do I do? I let my temper get the best of me. Good going, Walker.
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel, frustration mounting. She’s a tough one; I’ll give her that.
“Okay. But what about those cinnamon rolls? I know you meant to grab a pan of them. I can turn back. See if they have any left?”
Let’s be honest—I’m willing to drive around all night if it’d just get her to start talking to me. This silent treatment is killing me.
She only shakes her head again. “I’m good.” She lets her skull fall back against the headrest. I focus my eyes on the road, occasionally glancing in her direction.
I see her eyelids fluttering. I can’t tell if she’s really falling asleep, or if she’s just shutting me out.
Like I did to her.
I empty my lungs on a heavy exhale. I know I fucked up. I do. I’m sure I looked like an absolute lunatic out there, screaming at that asshole at the top of my lungs with the whole town of Crescent Harbor watching. I can’t imagine how it all appeared to Penny, who had to stand right there and watch. To say I lost my cool is an understatement. I’m usually better than that, at least when Penn’s around. I’m sure I embarrassed the hell out of her. She hates a scene.
I feel like shit that she was there to witness it all, yet I was completely justified in what I did. Sure, maybe I shouldn’t have exploded like that, but I just lost it when I saw that asshole bothering Penny. I couldn’t let it go unchecked. Because I know how Bert Peters is. You give him an inch and then he mows you over for a mile.
The drive home takes forever. The silence lingers between us and a cloud of gravel and dust stretches behind us. When I park my truck in my yard, she flies into action, grabbing her stuff and marching into the cabin.
So she wasn’t sleeping. Good to know.
She’s in the kitchen when I catch up to her. “Penn, we really —”
“No,” she grinds out, stomping her foot as she pivots. It’d be cute if she didn’t look ready to murder me in my own house. “What is wrong with you?” She takes a step forward, poking me in the chest. “Normal people don’t act like that!”
My nostrils flare as I grit my teeth. “You don’t understand,” I growl back.
“You can’t understand being friendly to someone?!”
I throw my arms up, turning and pacing. “You can’t just be friends with every single asshole who
